Warded
by MafiaSquirrel
Summary: All of us who have read the books know about Tris and Tobias and their adventures, but we never really get to know Edward. This is the story of his unrecorded time and thoughts as he faces the challenges of being factionless. Rated T just to be safe.


Warded (Chapter 1): Trudged Steps, Tears, and Introductions

**Salutations! I've had the idea for this story running through my head for a good few months now. Actually, it wasn't all my idea. Hopefully I won't be the only one working on it. Hopefully it'll be a joint project with someone I hope is still willing to communicate with me. If that person is not willing, however, I will continue the story myself and see it to its end. Enjoy!**

I walk along the rusted, metal tracks, my eyes trained on the boots I got at the pit the first week of Dauntless initiation. They're scuffed now and covered in a thin layer of red dirt, but I know they're better than anything I'll find without a faction. I hear a long exhale and pull my head up to look at Myra next to me. She's hunched over, her hands rubbing her bare, crossed arms in an attempt to keep herself warm against the cooling wind. I clear my throat. "Are you cold?"

She turns to me, flicking her head to the side to get her unruly, brown hair away from her face. "No, not at all." Sarcasm drips from her voice.

I narrow my eyes at her. "Fine," I respond bitterly. "Be that way. Guess I'll just keep my jacket, then."

She sighs. "Look, I'm sorry. I just ... I guess I've just been a little edgy. Y'know, since we left."

"You didn't have to leave," I remind her coldly. Her eyes return to the ground. After a moment, it's my turn to sigh. I make a big gesture of taking off my black, trench coat of a jacket and jabbing my arm out to hand it to her. She accepts it wordlessly and pulls it around her shoulders.

* * *

I've been walking for hours, but still not a single train. How many times have I watched the city trains pass me by along these very tracks, zooming from one faction to another? Millions, it seems. And yet I haven't seen a solitary one since I left the Dauntless compound.

Since _we_ left the Dauntless compound, I remind myself as I turn once again to look at Myra. It's gotten too dark to make out the features on her face, but it doesn't matter because I can picture them. Her deep-set, cloudy green eyes are probably almost shut with drowsiness. Her thin, cherry lips are probably cracked and dry, curved downward into a tired frown. Her round eyebrows are probably furrowed tightly. Her forehead is probably creased. "Hey," I blurt out to get her attention. She turns her head to me. "Let's stop here for the night. It's as good a place as any without a train in sight."

She nods and follows me off of the tracks and down a small slope to a dip in the land just big enough to house the both of us. "We're lucky it's so nice out tonight," I muse as I take off the backpack I got at the pit and unpack the two blankets Myra lifted from the hospital. "A little cold, but it's a clear sky and the wind's died down."

Myra nods again as she situates herself on the first blanket. I lay down next to her and spread the second one over us. I decide not to say anything about her keeping my jacket for the night. "Well ... sleep tight." I turn away from her and put my arm under my head to use as a cushion.

Just as I'm about to drift off, I hear a small whimpering sound coming from the what I thought was Myra's sleeping form. I open my eyes but keep quiet, thinking maybe she'll just fall asleep if I don't acknowledge her. I hear the sound again, though, and I can't just let her cry while I sleep. I turn back around to her and we're close enough that I can see the tears running down her cheeks.

She just stares at me for a beat. Then she squeezes her eyes shut and sobs roughly. Taken aback, I hesitantly wrap my arms around her shaking body. Her hands come up to cover her face and her crying becomes muffled. "I wouldn't ... have made it anyway," she manages through her tears. It's quiet, but audible. I stroke her back. "I would've ... failed initiation. I ... was never cut out ... to be ... Dauntless. This would ... have been my life ... no matter what."

That's true. I know it is, but I can't tell her that when she's a puddle of tears. I can't lie to her, either. How do I put a positive spin on this? "But you have me this way," I say when her sobs begin to die down. "You have me. By your side. Like we always planned. And I'm not going anywhere."

She peeks through her hands at me. "Promise?" she asks weakly.

I pull her in closer to me. "Promise." I rub circles on her back until she falls asleep, wondering if that is a promise I can keep.

* * *

I awake to a pain in my side. I wonder briefly what it is until some sharp object jabs into my rib cage, aiming most probably, I decide, to puncture my lung. My eyes shoot open and I grab hold of what turns out to be a very, _very_ large stick. A branch, more accurately. In the next second, I'm on my feet and pointing the weapon at my attacker. He's a tall, thin man-factionless by the look of his scraggly facial hair and mixed-colored clothing. All those years of hand-to-hand combat training, not to mention my share of Dauntless initiation, come to mind and I know I can take this guy.

He pulls a knife on me and I swear this is crazy, but I'm kind of grateful for some kind of excitement-the rush of fighting. If this is what my factionless life is to be like, I don't think I'll mind. It's not even that far off from what I would've been doing in Dauntless. Before we can get down to it, though, I hear a sharp female voice. "Wait, David. We don't him dead, for goodness' sake."

The man slowly lowers his arm and puts his knife into the pocket of his worn, Abnegation gray pants. I turn to look at the woman who stopped him. She's tall, lean, and all angles, with long brown hair and dark brown eyes that lack warmth. Her face, though. The expression. It looks ... familiar. "I don't need you to stop your little friend here," I bite at her. "I can handle myself.

She smiles an elegant, closed-lipped smile. "Yes, I can see that," she answers without a trace of malice. She steps over to me and my every muscle tightens in expectation of another attack. But she just extends her hand to me. I'm surprised and my eyes dart around my perimeter for a moment before I reluctantly take it. "So sorry to intrude upon you like this. Where are my manners. I am Evelyn Johnson, leader of the factionless."

"I'm Edward," I respond and take my hand back. "I wasn't aware the factionless had leaders."

Her smile takes on the edge of a smirk. "Yes, well the people of this city are taught to respect boundaries between people groups. With lines as blurred as those of the factionless, it is either lead, be lead, or starve." She took a pointed look at the pathetic little makeshift camp and at Myra, who was still sleeping like the bear she was. "I chose to lead." I nod. "What faction did you leave?"

"Not that it matters," I reply coolly. "But we're Erudite transferred to Dauntless."

"Oh Edward. Your faction, no matter where you go or whom you align yourself with, will ALWAYS define you."

I meet her heavy gaze. "Then I suppose it doesn't matter where I go or whom I align myself with."

"I suppose not," she says, and I know it's the end of the conversation. "Come along if you want. You can bring your girlfriend and get something to eat."

**There it is: the first chaper of Warded! It's short, but I hope you enjoyed it! Favorite and review, if you please! It's much appreciated.**


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